


And I'll Be There

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-17
Updated: 2007-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: Some drug use.</p><p>"1970s AU." 'Nuff said. Love and kisses to <a href="http://theemdash.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://theemdash.livejournal.com/"><b>theemdash</b></a> for betaing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'll Be There

Giovanni looked in the mirror and thought about his hair. The ponytail worked pretty well, and the braid made him look vaguely Native American, but he felt like having it down tonight. Hank always liked it down. But down was _boring._

Maybe he still had some glitter. He slid open the door to the medicine cabinet and poked around. Some Vitamin K his last boyfriend had left; painkillers; 'ludes; rubbers; ah, glitter. _That_ was more like it.

Hank didn't want to be exclusive? Fine. He'd find something better. Maybe he'd take his chances at Studio.

 

The bouncer liked his face but not his shirt. He took it off and they let him in.

The music was throbbing and the light show was in full force. Not bad. Might be a good night.

Gio shook his hair a little and rubbed the glitter falling out of his hair across his chest. Plenty of pretty faces; the question was always which ones were worth the trouble. There was a blond over by the bar who looked like he was trying to cultivate his own pocket of silence. It was weird to see anyone like that at Studio. He looked good, though; a simple white-and-yellow Oxford shirt, jeans so tight they were like faded blue skin . A lot simpler than anything Gio'd dare go to Studio in, but it suited him. _Damn_ did it suit him.

"Sandy!" There was a youngblood bouncing over to the blond. "C'mon. Dance."

"No," the blond said flatly. "You got me here. Don't ask for more."

"But _Sandy,"_ the kid wheedled. "Everybody here's so _pretty._ C'mon." The kid wasn't too bad, in a gangly, overexcited way; his shirt was a loud explosion of purple and orange, and he wore orange hot pants so tight and short Gojyo wondered if they had some kind of vaccum seal.

"You just said it," Sandy said, lighting his cigarette. "Everybody's pretty. You don't need me."

The kid leaned in and mumbled something in Sandy's ear. Sandy pretended to not look interested, while his thumb worked over the knobs of the kid's spine.

"Nah," he said. "Maybe later." He turned back to his Scotch.

"Screw you," the kid said good-naturedly. He looked over at Giovanni. "You're cute," he said. "Wanna dance?"

"I ain't gonna dance with you just to make your boyfriend jealous."

The kid rolled his eyes, as if Gio'd just said something completely ludicrous. Hell, maybe he had. "C'mon, you're hot. Wanna dance?"

Hell, it was still early. Why not? He shrugged.

The kid _roller skated_ out to the dance floor. Roller skates. "You sure you're old enough to be here?" Gio asked.

"I bet I'm older than you are, jerk." Older he might have been, but even on roller skates he didn't come up much beyond Gio's chin. Still, the kid looked like fun, and his boyfriend or whatever the hell sure was pretty.

 

Two and a half hours of booze and sweat-soaked dancing later, he'd decided the kid was pretty sweet, really. Another half hour and somehow he, Gio, and Sandy were all sitting at a table. Gio might have been drunk at that point. There was a fuzzy area between sober and smashed, and he was somewhere in the middle. The kid-- his name, it turned out, was Gene-- was kind of sweet. He had a hell of an appetite, and his stomach seemed bottomless too.

Gene slid over into Gio's lap. "You're pretty," he said, not for the first time. He wiggled down a little, like Gio wasn't hard already. "You got a pad? We could go back and party."

"You still seem kind of young," Gio said, pushing back anyway. "And what's your friend here say?"

Sandy just glared at them both.

"C'mon, Sandy," the kid said. "Let's do it."

Sandy looked Giovanni over, long, slow, hungry. "Yeah," he said. "What the hell."

 

Giovanni woke up hung over and alone. The sheets were tangled like a rope around his ankles, and the sunlight poking under the shade _hurt_ it was so bright.

His apartment was a shitpile; well, okay, it was always a shitpile. But this--

Shit. Someone had _tossed_ it.

Gio came fully alert. He knew who'd tossed it. _Exactly_ who. He checked the kitchen table-- covered with crumbs and empty plates-- and saw the "Have a Nice Day" memo pad he'd put Hank's number on, circled with black Magic Marker.

Hank had said some guys might be looking for him. He hadn't imagined--

_Shit._

He ran out the door, pulling his shirt on, pants half-buttoned. His flip-flops were on the couch; they'd do.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Thinking with his dick again, stupid, so fucking _stupid--_

 

By the time he got off at Hank's subway stop, he was starting to realize how sore his ass was, and his toes were blistering from the damn flip-flops. Stupid cheap things anyway. He'd only bought them for the gym. _Fuck,_ he thought to himself for the hundredth time, and elbowed past the doorman at Hank's building. The guy called him "sir," but it was pretty clear he didn't mean it. Fuck him. Fuck all of them, especially Sandy and that fucking _kid--_

The kid was standing in front of Hank's door when he got there. He had a fringed leather vest on and his roller skates had been replaced with broken-down canvas sneakers. "Hey," he said. "Gio."

"You son of a _bitch,"_ Gio said, and swung at him, hard.

The kid ducked it so smoothly it threw Gio off balance. "Calm down," he said, and grabbed Gio's arm in a grip like steel.

"Let _go_ of me!" Gio tried to shake him off, and felt absurdly like a little kid.

"Just _calm down,"_ Gene said. "You want the fuzz on our asses?"

Gio stopped struggling.

"Better," Gene said. "You gonna be all right if I let you go?"

Gio glared at him. "Fine," he said.

Gene let go, and Gio rubbed at his arm. It felt like it was already bruising. "Sorry," Gene said, leaning back against the door. "But you can't go in there right now."

"What the hell is he doing?" Gio growled.

"He won't hurt him or anything," Gene said. "He's not like that. Promise."

"Why should I trust you?" Gio snapped. "You two fucked me over hard enough once."

"You _liked_ that." Gene leered.

"Shut up. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Gene said, looking a little abashed. "Sorry. Sandy...he's. Sandy."

"He's an _asshole,"_ Gio said, getting a cigarette out.

Gene shrugged. "It takes a while to get to know him."

"Yeah, well, I'll leave that to you." Gio inhaled. That felt better. Slightly better. "Want one?"

Gene shook his head no. "C'mon. We'll go back to your place. You can put on some better clothes."

Gio looked down at himself. He'd grabbed a shirt that was still greasy from work and his pants...yeah, maybe Gene was right. "He'll be okay?"

"I promise," Gene said, and even though Gio had no reason to trust him, he did.

 

Sandy kicked them both awake. "Get up."

Gio squinted up at him. "You found your way back. You gonna put any of my shit back, while you're at it?"

Gene pulled the sheet around his waist; clearly instinctive, as Sandy'd seen it all before. "You're done? Already?"

"We're going," Sandy said. "Now."

"What happened?" Gio asked.

"That's not your business," Sandy said. "He's fine."

Gio pulled his knees up. He should have gotten up off the floor, but even being taller probably wouldn't intimidate Sandy. Probably nothing would. "You used me. And your boyfriend ate all my fucking food."

"Didn't hear you complaining." Sandy was smoking. That looked like a pretty good idea. His treacherous body suggested that fucking Sandy was _also_ a good idea, but he ignored it and dug his cigarettes out of the pants he'd wadded on the floor instead.

"Just get out," Gio said, trying to get his lighter.

"I'm sorry," Gene said, as he left. Sandy didn't say anything. Gio ignored them both.

 

Hank's apartment was empty. So empty the door was open; nothing there, no clothes, no food, no...

Nothing. Nothing that indicated anyone lived there; nothing that indicated anyone had ever lived there.

Gio walked around. He didn't know what he was looking for. A dark hair in the corner of the room, maybe, a forgotten book...anything.

There was an indentation in the linoleum where the bed had been. Gio closed his eyes and remembered Hank leaning over him, sweat dripping off his chest onto Gio's back. "Do you trust me?" Hank had whispered, and Gio had nodded his head....

He went home. He had nothing better to do.

 

Work on Monday was long and tedious, but at least it saved him from moping around the apartment. He came home hot and sweaty and streaked with grease, and he took a shower, threw together some spaghetti with what was left in the kitchen, and went to bed early.

Tuesday he got take-out Chinese.

Wednesday he went back to Hank's apartment again. The door was closed, but no one answered. He hadn't really expected anyone to. He bought some stuff to live on at the market, not a lot. He didn't feel like carrying too much home.

Thursday he went to the barber and got his hair cut off. It looked pretty good. The bruise on his arm was fading to purple and brown.

Friday night he went to Studio again. A couple of hot chicks looked him over, but they weren't the right sign, so he went home alone and took some 'ludes to get to sleep.

Saturday night he didn't bother. He turned the radio on, and smoked, and stared out the window for a while.

Sunday afternoon he went to the market and bought some spaghetti, tomato sauce, and a couple bags of chips. He was shifting the groceries in his arms to get them into the apartment when he heard that soft, familiar voice behind him: "No vegetables?"

"How can you even _tell_ from there?" he said, as his heart stopped beating and then picked up again.

"I'm afraid I know you a bit too well, Giovanni," Hank said. "Would you like me to get the door?"

"Yeah," Gio said, his mouth dry. "Yeah."

Hank turned the knob. "We'll have to buy some vegetables," he continued thoughtfully, "perhaps some garlic...."

Gio shoved the groceries on the floor and pushed Hank back against the door, kissing him as hard as he could. Hank's hands fisted in his shirt, pulling against the polyester. "Shit," Gio said when they came up for air. "What the hell happened?"

Hank didn't meet his eyes. "There were things I had to...settle," he said finally, picking up the grocery bag and walking over to the table. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Gio said. He slid the deadbolt home. "What...where are you now? Can I--"

"I'm not...I'm afraid I'm a bit...homeless."

"You can stay here." Gio set his grocery bag on the counter. "I got the couch, or...whatever."

Hank walked over to him. "That would be...thank you, Gio." He reached up and touched Gio's neck. "You cut your hair."

"Yeah." It was Gio's turn to look away. "You like it?"

"I'm not sure," Hank said. "I'm...I'm relieved to be here."

Gio kissed him again.

Hank, being Hank, insisted they put the cold food away before they tumbled into bed; they'd always gone to Hank's place, it'd been nicer, the bed was bigger, but it didn't matter, they fit, and Hank was _good_ in bed, as good as he'd always been, and it was seven o'clock before they got _out_ of bed.

Gio stripped the sheets off and Hank made sandwiches. "So what happened?" Gio asked. "With that Sandy guy?"

Hank's shoulders stilled for a moment. "We...came to an agreement," he said, finally, as the knife cleanly sliced through a tomato.

"Oh."

"I might...have to do a few jobs for him. In the future."

Gio thought about that. "He...is he okay?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Cause I. If you need me to. I."

Hank turned around and looked at Gio across the room. His knife was sticky with tomato goop. "Yes," he said softly. "I believe you would."

Gio didn't really have anything to say about that, so he went over to the 8-track player and sorted through the tapes instead. "You want disco?"

"Whatever you'd like," Hank said mildly, returning to his meal.

"Ace," Gio said, and found _Countdown to Ecstacy._

"This isn't disco," Hank said.

"You mind?" Gio said, turning toward him.

"Not at all."

Gio laid down on the couch, closed his eyes, and listened to the music. He felt Hank settle next to him a few minutes later. Hank's thigh was warm. The music was nice.

"You can put your head on my lap, if you'd like," Hank said, and Gio did.

He fell asleep with Hank's hand stroking his hair.


End file.
